Death Calling
by AnglophileConfessions
Summary: After the incident with Meredith at Eichen House, Lydia and Stiles have a moment together before going to the police station.


"Oh my god, oh my god…"

"Lydia, hey, you're okay, it's okay." Stiles said, reaching for Lydia in an attempt to comfort her. He carefully removed the leather straps binding her to the column.

"Stiles, he…Brunski…Meredith was the benefactor…they killed her. Stiles, Brunski killed my grandmother. He was going to kill _you._ I can't…" Lydia's eyes filled with tears and the room began to spin as though she had had too much to drink. "I have to get out of here."

Lydia ran past Parrish who was putting Meredith in handcuffs. For some reason, Meredith barely struggled. Lydia didn't seem to notice though. She ran until she was out of Eichen House. She ran until she was past the pavement that her best friend died on. Finally Lydia reached Stiles' jeep and leaned her head against the cold window, taking in great gulps of chilly air, fighting to calm herself.

A few minutes later she heard the noises of Parrish putting Meredith in his car and Stiles' distinctive erratic jogging footsteps coming towards her. When Lydia finally caught her breath she looked up to see both Parrish and Stiles standing to the side.

"I got this, Parrish." Stiles said in a low voice. Parrish looked between the two of them and then to his car where Meredith sat waiting and gave Stiles a nod. After a quick glance at Lydia he left the two of them alone.

"Lydia…" Stiles said, a sadness in his voice that brought her to. She looked up at him again and he reached out to her, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know, Stiles. I can't believe its Meredith. I thought she was dead. I thought she killed herself. And…and Brunski killed my grandmother. He's a murderer. He's a murderer and he's been doing this for years. How many innocent people have died because of him? And then…then I felt him die. I felt it…" Lydia paused, clearly on the brink of saying something else. "I felt you too."

It took a few seconds for Stiles to realize what Lydia was trying to say. She wouldn't look at him. Without a thought he closed the distance between them, holding her to him. At first she just stood there, allowing him to hold her and stroke her hair. Then she finally leaned into him and listened to the sound of his heart beat through his t-shirt. She focused on that sound until she felt less shaken. Then she leaned away from him so that she could see his face.

"Stiles, before, when he had the needles out and he moved toward you…he was going to kill you. I could feel the scream crawling up my throat. I could feel it straining for release. And then, Parrish showed up and suddenly it shifted."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked looking down at Lydia, eyebrows knitted together with concern.

"When Parrish entered the room, the feeling shifted from you to Brunski. I thought you were going to die and then I felt him die instead. And Stiles, I was okay with it. Relief washed over me when I realized you were okay and he was gone." Lydia looked up at Stiles. He could see every tear drop scattered across her eyelashes and feel her warm breath against his cheek. Stiles had no idea what to say. The knowledge that he had been so close to death was both startling and not surprising at all. It felt as though one of them was always in danger or always close to death. However, a banshee feeling as though you were going to die was entirely different. If Parrish hadn't shown up…both Lydia and Stiles could feel the tension brought on by this knowledge. Stiles could also tell that Lydia felt a certain amount of guilt for feeling so relieved at someone else's death, but he staunched those feelings saying, "Lydia, Brunski was a really bad guy. He hurt a lot of people. You didn't wish death on him. He was trying to kill us and Parrish saved us. There's nothing wrong with feeling safer and happier because he's dead. Everyone is safer…it's okay, Lydia."

Her breathing caught in her chest and he could feel her struggling not to cry. They had been through so much in the past year; too much for a couple of teenagers. They stood in silence for a few moments before Stiles said, "I'm so sorry, Lydia. I'm sorry that you had to go through that. I'm sorry that I couldn't stop it." He squeezed her shoulders and leaned his cheek onto the top of her head. "I'm so sorry."

Lydia leaned against Stiles' chest, the rushing sound of his steady breaths a comfort. For a small moment, Lydia had felt death calling her closest friend away from her. "Stiles, you have no reason to be sorry. You did everything you could. I don't know what I would have done without you…This is all such a mess. I don't understand at all. Why would Meredith do this to all these people?"

"I don't know. I have a feeling it won't be easy to get Meredith to tell us anything either." Stiles replied.

They were a sad sight. Lydia had makeup streaked across her face, mixed with tears and damp hair. Stiles was covered in sweat and dust from the records room of Eichen House. They clung to each other for a few minutes savoring the feeling of escaping death and bracing themselves for what was to come. Then Stiles released Lydia and reached to brush the damp hair away from her face. He did it gently without saying anything and then brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away the tears and mascara. Lydia leaned into his touch, looking up into his face.

To her disappointment, Stiles pulled away leaving a cold emptiness in the space between them. She always felt oddly guilty in these situations. They were just friends, so why did it feel like so much more whenever he touched her? There was a tenderness to it that made Lydia feel special and cared for. He was with Malia now though. He had given up on her for the time being…She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breathe to clear her head when she thought of something she wanted to ask him.

"Stiles," Lydia began, "How did you get out of the straps?" The leather straps that had bound their hands had kept them confined until Stiles had somehow broken free from one. The only person she knew who had done this before were Scott and Malia, both supernatural creatures with increased strength. The fact that Stiles was able to break free from the straps was remarkable.

"I don't know." Stiles replied, looking thoughtfully at Lydia. "I guess it was like when those people rescue accident survivors from cars. You know, when the people pick up a two ton vehicle to save someone because of all the adrenaline and desperation? I think maybe I had one of those moments. I couldn't stand to hear him hurting you, Lydia." Stiles avoided Lydia's eyes as he said all of his, chewing on his thumb nail anxiously.

Lydia softly pushed his hand away from his mouth and held it in hers. "We're okay now. I'm okay, I promise." She smiled slightly and he returned the gesture.

"You ready to go?" Stiles says raising his eyebrows at her.

Lydia nodded, jaw set, eyes blazing and free of tears. No one else was going to get hurt. No more murders. No more playing around. They had found the benefactor, they had stopped Brunski, and they would make sure that no one else had to die.


End file.
